


Life and Death

by Minirose96



Series: Sherlollidrops [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: AU, F/M, Life and Death personified, One Shot, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:02:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minirose96/pseuds/Minirose96
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Many people assume that Life must be bright, enthusiastic even, with love in everything it creates. Those same people would say Death is dark and cold, waiting in the wings for life to end so that it might claim a new victim. The opposite is actually true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Life and Death

Many people assume that Life must be bright, enthusiastic even, with love in everything it creates. Those same people would say Death is dark and cold, waiting in the wings for life to end so that it might claim a new victim. The opposite is actually true.

Death is kind down to her very core. She finds value in everything Life creates, and she treasures all his creations from the moment he forms them in his palms to the instance that they slip into her welcoming embrace. They stay with her, under her care and protection, until they are forgotten in the true world and slip even from her grasp. Some stay with her for centuries. Others, for merely moments. But always, they fade, and always, she remembers them. The last thing they feel is her warmth and love, because that is what death offers to them unconditionally.

Life, on the other hand, is somewhat fickle. He is cold, and often called coldhearted. He is forever changing, forever creating new things, so much so that some of his most spectacular masterpieces seem to fade away under a sea of subpar workings. No matter how brightly his creations shine, he sets them loose into the world with whatever random urge has taken his fancy. He does not allow himself to care for or love any of his creations, because they fade so easily. Life fades easily. He sets his work loose and watches each path reach its end, where death waits to cradle his creations close.

He feels her embrace those creatures, and he is bathed in the love that she gives each of them. He knows that that love she gives to his creations is for him as well, but he won’t accept it. Though Life and Death are eternal, his part is only temporary, and hers is everlasting.

Occasionally, Life and Death decide to be born into the world. Life crafts forms for each of them.

In this new form he has born for himself, he is taller than average, fit and highly intelligent as well, because Life is inevitably vain. His dark brown curls stand out starkly against his pale skin. He couldn’t decide what color for his eyes, so he decided on all of them. They change and shift almost as readily as the weather. Some have claimed them blue or green or grey and every color in between. His lithe, agile hands allow him to create new life in the form of music, the violin his object of choice.

Death, who is modest, always asked Life to create for her a form that suited her best. This time, she is average. Her brown hair and brown eyes are almost boring in comparison to the endless array of combinations that Life could have given her. She is neither too tall or too short, too fat or too thin. She is entirely plain, though as always her mind is brilliant.

Life and Death alway seem to find each other, no matter how far apart they are. Sometimes, they are born continents apart and meet just as their lives end. Other times, they are childhood friends who part ways only to meet again. This time, they do not have far to travel, and they do not have long to wait to find each other.

Life found great irony in Death’s choice of profession when they meet in their thirties. He read her name on her ID as she flustered through the false introduction. Her name in this life is Molly Hooper. A name as plain as the body she wore.

When her supervisor left them alone she smiled softly, and a bit of the flustered appeal ended. Not all of it, but enough. “I was wondering when you would come.”

He arched his brow. “Why did you think I would come to you this time?”

She blinked up at him. “Because silly, Life always comes to Death in the end.” She didn’t say it harshly. In fact, she was quite soft, almost remorseful, in the way she spoke the words.

A nod was his only response.

“Goodbye, Sherlock.” Her voice followed him with his new name as he left.

He allowed himself more interaction with his creations than usual in this life. Oh, he still held back much of himself. He is still cold and calculating, judging the things he has laid before him as one would judge a fresh painting before tossing it aside.

He’s met one, a man whom he expected to be dull in comparison to his other works. But John is not dull. John is vibrant, and ready to lay down his life for what he believes in. He gains a bit of appreciation for his creations, each with their own spark. Each, he concedes, a work of art.

He lets John in, the first of his creations in several millennia. With John come others. Greg and Mrs. Hudson and even the insipid Anderson have earned a spot as one of his favorite creations. He knows that Death will treasure then all the more because he does. Death, whose arms are always open to accept his creations.

It is with this same openness that Molly Hooper accepts and waits for Sherlock Holmes.

His stubbornness held him at bay longer than usual. Life and Death always attract, whether as friends or colleagues or rivals. This time, they have attracted to each other as lovers.

Tonight, Molly Hooper lies in Sherlock Holmes’ arms in their shared flat, and she traces the scars on his back that she cannot see, admiring the pain he endured to protect his creations. She kissed his chest softly, and he sighs, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

Soon, they know, Death will take Life in her arms and carry him home, just as Life has led Death into the world in one of his creations.

For now though, they are not Life and Death. They are Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes, cradled in each other’s arms, and waiting for the cycle to continue


End file.
